


Shitty Dad Club

by notmadderred



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 20:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18978163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: Simmons remembers things he'd much rather forget.Carolina wants to help.





	Shitty Dad Club

**Author's Note:**

> Another finished request for BTHB -- a slow and steady progression.

“The male-to-female ratio here could seriously use some work,” Tucker said, eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his water.

Grif gave him a flat look from where he was positioned at the kitchen table, legs kicked up on the nearest chair and bag of potato chips in his hands. “You sound like such an asshole when you say it like that.”

Simmons was across from Grif, currently poking at his salad. Carolina was seated next to him, hence his stiff posture. Seriously, after all this time and he still was awkward around girls. It was embarrassing. He should’ve gotten over this _years_ ago, but here he was.

“You do,” Carolina agreed staunchly, taking a bite from the apple after having rotated it between her hands for a good five minutes. By her expression, she wasn’t impressed. She took another bite.

Simmons shifted awkwardly, wanting to chime in that Tucker always sounded like an asshole, but that put him at the risk of bringing even more attention to himself, and, well… he didn't want that. Not now.

“Ugh, fuck. But seriously? Just you and Kai? I’d think you’d want… I dunno, more women-empowerment up in this base. Start a posse to take down us dudes.”

“Don’t pretend you want more women for unselfish reasons,” Grif drawled. “You just wanna get laid.”

“Of course I wanna get laid!” Tucker exclaimed, lifting his hands. “I haven’t gotten laid since the Temple of Procreation, and that was for-fucking-ever ago!”

Grif noisily crunched on his chips.

“How am I the only one like this? Or are the rest of you getting laid with each other and I don’t know about it?”

Curiously, he eyed Grif.

Grif froze halfway to shoving another chip in his mouth. “Why are you looking at _me_? If anyone here would have no problem getting some, it’d be Carolina.”

Carolina rolled her eyes. “Don’t bring me into this mess.”

“You didn't deny it,” Tucker said accusatorily.

Carolina pursed her lips. “You’re intolerable. And your testosterone is weak.”

Tucker made an offended sound. “Um, I have plenty of testosterone, thank you,” he shot back at her. “And you say that while literally sitting next to Simmons who has, like, none whatsoever.”

Simmons’ heart stopped, his hand freezing accordingly. Red shot up the back of his neck before he remembered to breathe 

_“I can’t fucking look at her. Jesus, what is she-- what are you doing? How are you so fucked up as to think--”_

Simmons bit down on his cheek, staring at his salad. Then he pointedly took a bite, ignoring Tucker’s statement.

“The fact that Simmons isn’t constantly talking about fucking doesn’t mean shit, Tucker,” said Grif, his tone almost too casual.

Tucker harrumphed but was now eyeing Simmons. The look on his face softened. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Fine!” he squeaked before he could calm down and give a more convincing answer.

“Um, sorry man, I was… just messing with you.” He sounded both sincere and confused, as though he couldn’t possibly put together what caused Simmons to have a very low-key panic attack that was going to turn very high-key if the attention continued to stay on him.

_“What, you think you’re special?”_

_There was burning against his back, something searing into the muscle beneath his skin and he barely held back a scream_

_“You’re worthless. I’ll fix you my fucking self if I have to -- you aren’t going to ruin our family, Anne.”_

_More burning, and he arched back against the pain, darkness crowding the edges of his vision._

_“You aren’t going to ruin everything I’ve built. You think you have what it takes to be a man?”_

_More, more, and the remaining vision turned to spots--_

_“You’re no longer even human in my eyes. If you try this fucking bullshit on me again, I’ll break you into total fucking pieces, Anne. People will ask how you fucking died, and I--”_

_Pain, and he was screaming_

_“-- I’ll tell them my daughter was murdered. And I won’t even be guilty. You’ll be.”_

_It was animalistic; it was him, but he didn't sound human just like his father was saying and_

_“Now, tell me_ your fucking name.”

_He gasped, face wet from sweat and tears and, and, and, “Richard.”_

_He’d woken up much later, the pain vibrating in every molecule of his body. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t crawl, couldn’t do anything, helpless, helpless, trapped, and_

_“What. Is. Your. Name.”_

“Not hungry,” he said, standing up too quickly. He accidentally knocked the remaining salad onto the table, and the bowl clattered loudly from the hit.

He left it there, mess and all, to fumble his way right the fuck out and into his room. Well, his and Grif’s room.

He just needed away. Now.

It was stupid.

It was so fucking stupid because it was a stupid comment and Tucker meant nothing by it because he was Tucker and that was what he did but then he even felt bad about it and got worried about Simmons and

Simmons just hadn’t thought about it in a while. Well, not like _that_. The thoughts were always there, the fears were always there, but some of the memories--

He leaned against the wall, hands flat against it as he took gulping breaths. Reticent pain was flaying his body, shadows of what happened before before _before_ but much of the spots had been replaced, replaced with metal and gears and _he shouldn’t feel pain there anymore not anymore_

He slid down, heart still hammering in his chest

_“What. Is Your. Name.”_

He was shivering, squeezing his eyes shut.

_“What.”_

He tasted blood when he bit back a scream

_“Is.”_

He threw his head back against the wall with a sharp _thunk!_

_“Your.”_

A raw hiss escaped his throat

_“Name.”_

“Anne,” he gasped. He tucked himself in further, making him as small a target as possible for his father. “M- my name is Anne.”

“I think it’s Richard, actually.”

His eyes flew open.

He had to blink a few times, had to remember where he really was, had to remember that he hadn’t seen his father in years and--

“Carolina?”

She was kneeling in front of him, one hand cautiously outstretched as if to pat his knee. “Yeah. Hey, Simmons. You kinda freaked out back there.”

He was still freaking out.

This was _Carolina_.

And

And oh God he’d just told her about about about Anne and he couldn’t no nono

“You’re safe now, Simmons.” She pulled her hand back in after a moment, eyes flitting from him to the space next to him.

Then she shifted, moving to that spot and settling down.

Simmons tried not to tense up, kept his own eyes staring forward.

“Take… your time. To calm down.” She shook her head and released a raw huff. “I’m not the best at comforting people but… yeah. We’re all here for each other.”

Of all people to follow him, he hadn’t expected it to be her.

He closed his eyes again, taking in the darkness and allowing it to settle, non-threatening. Deep breaths.

When he opened his eyes again, breaths regaining some semblance of normalcy, Carolina was still sitting there.

Warmth spread to his cheeks. “Um-- I’m-- I’m sorry, I--”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, giving him a stern look.

He flinched, clenching his jaw as he stared forward.

“I mean-- sorry. You have nothing to apologize for. We all have our moments. I have Grif cleaning up the salad, so I’d say you’re actually doing him a favor.”

Simmons released a soft snort. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Simmons,” she continued after a moment. “I just want to make sure that you’re… that you’re okay. I heard you say something about your father…”

He swallowed. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking out loud, that his panic attack had gotten so out of hand that he… “Yeah,” he croaked. His throat felt raw. “Kind of an asshole.”

“Tell me about it,” she offered, putting a smile on her face. “My dad wasn’t-- he didn't care that I was gay,” she said, and he couldn’t help the widening of his eyes and mild squawk at her confession. She continued on, “But, y’know, he didn't care about much in the way of me. I spent most of my life trying to earn his attention. Until, well…” She looked at him sidelong, “until I tried to get Wash and all of you to help me kill him.”

He blinked, the information taking a moment to process. Then it clicked. “Wait.”

Carolina’s mouth formed a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about shitty dads.”

“The Director,” he stated dumbly.

She nodded. “The Director.”

They sat in silence for a few moments longer.

Simmons hesitated, his legs still tucked in close, before finally letting himself talk. “My dad… _wasn’t_ the Director.”

“An interesting revelation that could’ve been,” she commented.

He huffed, shaking his head slightly. She was still watching him, expression carefully masked. It occurred to him that she was trying to avoid spooking him. Fair enough. “He… didn't take the fact that I was trans well. At all.”

He hadn’t spoken those words to anyone since… well, since his parents. The only other person who knew Sarge, who found out when he was making Simmons a cyborg. He hadn’t cared, brushed it aside with an uncharacteristically soft smile when Simmons tried to explain himself, stammering; and clapped his shoulder once and said, “‘S’alright, son.”

Carolina didn't say anything, just shifted slightly so her shoulder was brushing his. 

“I joined the military in part to get away from him, because it got to the point where he... where he tried to kill me. To preserve the family. I got out in time, but still I--” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was sweaty, greasy. He pulled his hand back. “I tried to-- to forget. But sometimes I-- I get too comfortable and… and something stupid triggers the memories and--”

“Not stupid,” she interrupted. “It’s never stupid.”

“Right,” he said automatically. Then let her words settle. _It’s never stupid._ “Right,” he repeated.

“We should make a club,” she said, her tone taking a humorous edge that Simmons still wasn’t used to. “LGBT Plus, Shitty Dads Club. Current capacity: two.”

“I don’t know,” Simmons said, matching her tone, “Donut’s dad was pretty shitty.”

“Three,” she said.

He smiled. “Uh… thanks. For checking on me.”

She nudged him. “No problem. Admittedly, both Tucker and Grif wanted to as well, but… I had a feeling I knew what that was about. Sorry that I found out in that way -- I--”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, voice pitching a bit higher. He cleared his throat. “It’s… fine. It was… nice talking to you.”

She pursed her lips. “Yeah, we don’t really talk much, do we?”

“That’s probably my fault,” Simmons offered. “You terrified me.”

“I do have that effect on people.”

He grinned. “You’re… less. Terrifying. Uh, now.”

“Don’t insult me, Richard.”

He snorted. “My bad. Still terrifying.”

“You know, you don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. You don’t owe them that.” She tilted her head slightly. “Though I probably will at least tell Kai I’m a lesbian at some point.”

Simmons lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “Oh? Does somebody have a crush?”

She gave a quick, snorting laugh and elbowed him. “Oh, shut up. You don’t get to make fun of me for that.”

There was a soft knock at the door, and then suddenly Grif’s head poked in, followed shortly by Tucker’s beneath his. “Um, hey. Is everything… good?” asked Grif.

Simmons shrugged and Carolina nodded. At that, the door opened the rest of the way, and both men walked in.

Grif immediately went for his bed, which he flopped onto with no care for grace.

Tucker rubbed the bad of his neck. “Uh, Simmons, I just wanted to--”

“Carolina and I are thinking about starting a club,” Simmons interrupted resolutely. “How shitty are your dads?”

Tucker blinked. “I guess, like, a four on the dad-assholery scale. Why?”

“Do I count if my dad ran out?” Grif asked. “Like, is this a shitty dad club? Because I’ll bet five bucks Donut’s dad is the worst.”

“My dad was the Director,” said Carolina.

“My dad tortured and tried to murder me,” said Simmons.

“What the _fuck?_ ” said Grif.

“You owe us five bucks,” said Simmons.

“Oh, hell, no! You don’t get to just say shit like that and-- and! What the fuck!” he screeched. “How! Why!”

“What the fuck just happened?” asked Tucker. “Is this a prank?”

“Can someone give me five bucks, please,” said Simmons.

“What happened in here?” Tucker repeated, looking a bit distraught. “I just came in here to apologize, and now I’m hearing that--”

“Tucker,” said Carolina, “give us five dollars.”

“But Grif made the bet!” Tucker retorted, “Besides, we haven’t heard Donut’s side yet!”

“Did somebody ask about doing me from the side?” said Donut, popping inside with a frown.

“Everybody please stop!” yelled Grif.

“Do I hear Grif shouting? Is he finally getting the remorseless demise he deserves?” Sarge called, also stopping to look inside.

“No!” Grif yelled, his voice cracking a bit. “Somebody, please tell me what’s going on!”

“Too lazy to figure it out yourself?” Simmons quipped.

“No! Shut up!”

“Now, Grif, no need to get so bothered--”

“You too, Donut!”

Beside Simmons, Carolina was shaking slightly from the force of withholding her laughter. 

He found himself relaxing completely, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. Sarge’s attention had shifted to Tucker, inevitably, as he was the only “Dirty Blue!” in the room. Tucker was trying to defend himself, shouting about a truce and trying to turn the tables back on Grif.

Grif was shouting at Donut, who’d made yet another innuendo regarding the number of people in the room.

Maybe he wouldn’t tell them now, but… he had a feeling none of them would ostracize him for that, of all things.

For now, he could just sit back and enjoy the mayhem that he and Carolina had caused.

“Please fucking explain the Director and murder thing!”

“Not until you give us five bucks.”

He snorted and shouldered Carolina.

“When the fuck did you two get buddy-buddy! I was gone for ten fucking minutes!”

“Aw, Grif -- don’t sound so jealous!”

“I’m not fucking jealous, Donut!”

“Oh, now; no need to be shy -- I can see you blushing!”

“Donut!”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Carolina and Simmons discuss about childhood trauma!
> 
> I took a lot of time with this one since I really wanted to get it right. I'm still unhappy with some parts, but I hope that, for the most part, I was able to clean it up enough to do it justice.
> 
>  
> 
> Send me an ask [here](https://not-madder-red.tumblr.com/ask) if you want to request a work to fill out my Bingo card (as specific or general as you want). Current version of my Bingo card can be found [here](https://not-madder-red.tumblr.com/post/185159385876/carolina-and-simmons-discuss-about-childhood)


End file.
